


Sepia

by gxlden



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Canon, Deviates From Canon, Fluff, Harmless fun, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, One Shot, Photography, in that they actually have emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:47:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21805405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gxlden/pseuds/gxlden
Summary: The saying is that a picture is worth a thousand words, but a picture of the two of them is worth all three worlds to Aizen and Gin.
Relationships: Aizen Sousuke/Ichimaru Gin
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

Stashed among the pages of one of Aizen’s encyclopedias, between platinum and Plato, there was a photograph. Actually two photographs, which required some serious finagling on Aizen’s part in order to keep intact as a set. They were black and white, around four square inches, and at the time they were taken, the latest innovation in instant photography — at least in the living world. 

The first was a candid. Kitamura had somehow managed to sneak up and snap a picture of his captain and lieutenant without them even noticing. They were in the middle of a conversation and completely unaware they were being photographed until after the fact. 

The second one was staged. When he saw their surprise at being captured on film, the third seat gave them the chance to pose for another. Gin made a face completely unbecoming of a lieutenant, eyes crossed, fingers hooked in his mouth with that sharp tongue lolling out, and Aizen, who had no idea what else to do, simply threw two fingers up in a V and smiled broadly, teeth and all. 

Gin laughed at him for that cliched pose and how stupid he looked showing off his teeth, but Aizen didn’t mind. That wasn’t the picture that he liked and he probably would’ve just thrown it out if the look on Gin’s face wasn’t so amusing and didn’t so perfectly encapsulate the deceivingly mischievous nature of the man. It was the first photo, the candid that he truly treasured — the one that managed to capture an honest moment between himself and Gin. 

Compositionally, it was a rather poor photo. It was mostly of their backs as they stood talking at the end of an empty corridor and Aizen’s big white haori came off as the focus of the picture. It drowned out all the other tones of black and gray and white, even the silver shock of Gin’s hair. It seemed a testament to the Fifth instead of a testament to them, which was perhaps a fortunate stroke of luck — it drew attention away from the smile that had creeped across Aizen’s face as he turned and listened to his lieutenant speak. It was a gentle smile, innocent and soft, but not one of the staged-saccharine grins he gave to his coworkers and subordinates. It was a genuine smile — a reflection of contentment that he knew he only experienced with Gin. 

No one else could bring that look out so easily. Aizen guarded his expressions closely and had rigorously trained himself over the years to display only calculated compositions of emotions, and yet Gin managed to pry that smile from his lips at least once a day without ever even trying. 

Aizen was not a sentimental man, but when Kuchiki Rukia went missing in the living world and the pieces of his plan began to fall into place, he took both photos out from between the thin pages of his ancient encyclopedia and looked at them for a long while. 

The two of them, posed and happy. Fake smiles, Gin’s skeletal fingers in his mouth with his wicked tongue sticking out. Aizen, all stiff and unnatural, with his own fingers raised in victory. Or peace. Captain and lieutenant, cavorting all charismatically for the camera. It was a sweet photo, a facsimile of the relationship between superior and subordinate, but it was all an act. 

The real bond between them had been captured just moments before, when they stood talking to each other, ignorant of everyone and everything going on outside the two of them. Two equals appearing indivisible and at ease as they stood there, turned inward toward each other, leaving very little space between them as they conversed. The look of serious pride on Gin’s face as he recounted some tale for his captain and the look of love that Aizen gave him in return. 

When they finally left this place and made a clean break, he couldn’t risk anyone coming across such damning evidence. Leaving glaring declarations like this behind was poor tradecraft. Besides, no one else deserved to see that smile; it was reserved for Gin, and only Gin. Unwilling to let anyone else see that special smile, he burned the photos in his kitchen sink and washed the ashes down the drain.

/\/\

“Whatcha doing?”

Gin snuck up on him as he always did, silent as a snake. Aizen couldn’t be sure when he even entered the house. 

“Reminiscing,” he answered. 

“You got a weird way of reminiscing, Aizen-san,” Gin pointed out, taking notice of the gray flecks of ash sticking to the side of the basin. “What were you burning?”

“Nothing important,” Aizen shrugged. After all, it wasn’t like there weren’t any other photos of the two of them. Gin was still his lieutenant when the Sereitei Communication did their exposé on the Fifth, and they had sent a photographer over to their offices to take a ton of pictures of the two of them, along with the other seated officers and the amenities of the division. There were probably dozens of negatives lying around the Ninth Division archives with the two of them posed side by side in the offices, the training grounds, the hot springs, the front gate, proudly defending the number Five on their doors. The photo shoot was one of the more asinine things they were forced to do as they masqueraded as model shinigami, but they shared plenty of laughs about the whole thing. 

“You don’t burn things that aren’t important,” Gin reasoned. He watched Aizen splash some water around the sink to wash away the final bits of ash. 

“You do if it’s something you don’t want anyone else to see.” 

“Ooh... scandalous,” Gin lilted in that teasing voice that Aizen loved and hated so much because he could never seem to rise above it. 

“It was nothing so salacious...” he took a breath. “Do you remember that obnoxious camera Kitamura brought back from the living world? When you were still my lieutenant?”

Gin filled in the rest of the blanks on his own and frowned. “You burned the photos he took of us?” 

“We were in uniform when he did,” Aizen sighed, “and I couldn’t stand to have that memory of us tainted with this place.” 

“So you burned it,” Gin said flatly. Aizen merely nodded, knowing that Gin wouldn’t press him any more than that. Despite the world-rending bond the two of them shared, the intimate nature of their enigmatic love, there were things Aizen did that Gin would never understand and they had both come to accept that. 

“You’re so weird, Aizen-taichou.” Gin laughed, letting the disappointment pass. He would’ve liked to keep those stupid little snapshots as proof that they had loved each other before their defection and deception, before Los Noches, before the lies became truth. But there was no bringing them back, so Gin just had to let it go. “What am I gonna do with you?” He sighed. 

“You could join me for a drink — reminisce some more.”

“As long as you promise not to burn me.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW - mildly explicit sexual content

“Hey.” 

“Hey,” Aizen looked up from the book he had been reading with a smile, unsurprised by Gin’s sudden manifestation in his bedroom. There was tea on the table beside him but he was still in his shihakusho, looking for all the world like an innocent librarian. Gin knew better. 

“Been looking for ya.”

“Well here I am.” 

“Take those clothes off,” Gin instructed. “I got a surprise for ya.”

“Oh? What could that possibly be?” Aizen was all smarmy smiles as he did as he was told, shedding the layers of his shinigami uniform directly onto the floor. 

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” Gin scolded, though he was smiling right along with him. What Aizen was envisioning could come later — he came here with another purpose in mind: to raid that ridiculously large closet of his for something simple yet stylish and completely unconnected to the Gotei 13 and the rest of the Sereitei. 

There was an unreasonable amount of clothing piled on the shelves and dangling from hangers, but Aizen was as partial as the next man, preferring certain cuts and colors over others, and Gin knew exactly which garments were featured most often in his rotation. He was pleased to find the short black yukata with tiny white diamonds on the sleeves that Aizen was so fond of sleeping in hanging on a hook near the center of the wardrobe. It looked good on him. Gin pulled it out. 

“Put this on,” he said. 

As Aizen redressed, Gin browsed through the back of his closet, where a few of his own robes had taken up residence over the years. There was the purple one he’d been missing, with those big sleeves and silver stitching that matched his hair. Gin was already wearing a set of civilian clothes but he took the time to change anyway, pulling the purple yukata over his shoulders and smiling at the feeling of soft care-worn cotton caressing his skin. 

“What’s this all about, Gin?” 

In response, Gin walked over to the table and picked up the black case he had set down earlier. The zipper stuck a little, stiff with disuse, but Gin managed to open it enough to slide the ancient Polaroid camera out. It wasn’t easy to surprise someone as vigilant and intuitive as Aizen, but it was clear that his little toy had done the trick.

“Where’d you get something like that?” Aizen asked, blindsided by the reveal.

“I picked it up when I was stationed in Okinawa back in the 80’s.”

“How come I’ve never seen it before?” 

“It’s obvious you don’t like getting your picture taken,” Gin answered. “You don’t like proof that all your smiles are fake.”

“Not all of them...” Aizen said gently. 

“Most of ‘em.” 

He watched Aizen scowl, knowing it was true. Very little made him smile for real these days, but Gin sought to change that. He stepped up to Aizen and pulled his glasses off his face. Then he reached up and ran a hand through his hair, disrupting the docile mop of brown that made the captain look so soft and approachable. Gin liked him serene and out of reach, though he made sure to tuck that irritatingly unruly central lock out of the way.

“Come on. There should still be some film in here.” Gin smiled and took Aizen’s hand, leading him through his own house to one of the back rooms he knew he never used. The house was built to accommodate any size family a captain might have, but Aizen didn’t have anything like that. All he had was Gin, and the man didn’t take up much space. So the mass of bedrooms and studies and dining rooms often sat cold and empty, which meant it didn’t take long to find the perfect backdrop for Gin’s purposes. There was a couch and a coffee table and a single bookshelf surprisingly bereft of books. The walls were an idyllic shade of light blue and were completely bare. In isolation, one wouldn’t be able to tell where the room was located nor what building it belonged to. 

“Sit,” Gin instructed and pointed to the couch. Then he dropped himself heavily into Aizen’s lap, fully aware of how bony his ass was, driving into Aizen’s thigh as he tried to make himself comfortable. 

“Smile,” he said, and he held up the camera, the lens facing the two of them as they leaned awkwardly into each other on the couch. There was a flash, a gentle gnashing whir, and the undeveloped photograph slid out of the little machine proudly, like a petulant tongue sticking out, refusing to reveal its secrets.

“You know they make these things in color now,” Gin said, waving the snapshot around. 

By the third photo, all the awkwardness had evaporated, like it always did, into the air without a trace. Gin was all but curled up on Aizen’s lap with the man’s arms wrapped around his waist, experimenting with his face and body, leaning into Aizen, smirking and scowling, anything to provoke the man into a genuine smile. His heart soared each time he saw one, but his fingers weren’t always fast enough to capture it on film. Thankfully the pack of film had been nearly full — Gin had taken maybe two photos since he bought the thing, both of Rangiku — and it gave him plenty of chances to try and preserve that smile for decades to come. 

The childlike focus he had on his little gadget was so endearing that Aizen couldn’t help but reach up and turn Gin’s chin away from the device so he could kiss him. That playful passion was one of the things Aizen loved about him, and he kissed him to show him how thankful he was for this little escapism. As their lips met, he heard a click and the telltale whir of a printing photo — a photo of the two of them kissing. There was a soft flutter as it fell to the ground and he could feel Gin change the angle of the camera, gearing up for another without ever breaking their kiss. Aizen would much rather have him focus on their lips and tongues, so he threw a hand out to push away the camera, put the whole thing on pause, just for a minute. There was another little click and whir and once that photo developed they would still be able to see the two of them kissing happily through the gaps in Aizen’s fingers. 

Everything that Aizen had been expecting earlier naturally followed. The camera came to rest on the corner of the table, atop the pile of snapshots Gin had taken, and their clothes came to rest on the floor. Gin was spread out beneath him, one hand on the back of the couch and the other fisted in his own hair, looking wantonly up at Aizen as he fucked into him. Those long, elegant limbs, his near-hollow chest, his throat, his lips, his cock — Aizen could probably look at Gin all day if he could, letting those icy eyes chill him to the bone. Thankfully there was a way he could. 

Gin watched as Aizen paused and leaned over to pick the camera up from the table, and his grin nearly split his face. Aizen looked through the viewfinder at their bodies connecting — Gin, skin flushed, stretching around him, his dick disappearing inside him, one of his strong hands on Gin’s hip — and pushed down on the shutter button, smiling to himself behind the camera.

/\/\

“Now _these_ are the sorts of photos you’d wanna burn,” Gin laughed later as they reclined in the main living room with the collection of rather explicit photos spread out before them.

“Not all of them,” Aizen said picking one of the exceptions up. 

“Oh, yeah — I like that one.” It was the first photo Gin had taken, when Aizen was still trying to figure out what exactly Gin was playing at and couldn’t help but be suspicious. The bemused expression on his face made Gin feel victorious. “You look like you got no idea what’s going on. It’s a good look on ya, captain.” 

Aizen hummed and shuffled that picture to the bottom of the pile. 

“I like this one,” he said, picking up another Polaroid. Gin expected to see his naked backside, on his knees looking back at the camera (Aizen had seemed very pleased directing him for their little pornographic shoot) but to his mild surprise it was the two of them, still clothed, laughing on the couch. Aizen’s arm was slung around Gin’s shoulders and his hand had tangled in his silver hair, mussing it as Gin made a face. They were smiling, happy. At peace with one another. 

“Yeah,” Gin nodded, “I like that one, too.”


End file.
